


In Hiding

by lar_laughs



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-04
Updated: 2005-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonks is forced to seek sanctuary in the one place she never wanted to return - but finds that healing is sometimes only found in the returning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Hiding

**Author's Note:**

> The first part is a drabble that I wrote for a challenge which I then decided to expand into a longer story.

**The Drabble**

The dark walls screamed in pain as she touched them. Not with sound, of course, but the pain was there. Tonight, Tonks was alone at Black Manor. Even if it was a safe house for the Order, it was still full of her horrible memories.

"I told you I would be brave, Mumma. All those years ago, I told you I would be brave when I came here, but I'm scared. I wish I was home."

At this point, there was nowhere else for her to go before the end of the investigation. Funny that this was her last refuge.

**The Longer Story**  
The fire in the front room hadn't been lit yet today, but Tonks made quick work of the chore, staring into the flames as she watched them lick at the smoky bricks. As soon as the chill was taken off this room, she moved toward the kitchen to see what Molly had left in the way of provisions.

Before she got close to the door, she sensed she was not alone. Instinctively, she pulled out her wand and switched to a safe disguise. Her signature violet hair and freckles were becoming too well known. When she was sent to lay low, she had switched to the look for the comfort. It was how so many people were accustomed to seeing her that she had become used to it herself. No one would ever see a hint of Nymphadora in the slim Asian girl she had been trying out lately. The smooth, freckle-free cheeks were giving her the most grief of the change, but it was close enough to the casual observer.

Whoever was in the kitchen was putting the provisions to good work. There was a hint of garlic in the air, as well as another spice that was familiar but not as prevalent. She peeked around the corner, ready to fire on the law-breaking chef, but there was no one in the room. The long table had been shrunk down to a cozy spot for two, complete with candles and a chilling bottle of wine.

After a swift look around to verify her initial findings, she slunk out into the hallway again. Maybe the safe house wasn't as empty as Amelia had thought. Had Bill decided to use it as a last minute date location again? Everyone else was out on assignment or out of the country for the near future.

The mystery cook had to come back soon to check on the pot bubbling slowly on the recalcitrant Aga. Finding a deep shadow, she backed into it to wait – and ran solidly into a heavily muscled chest. Her first instinct was to struggle when the arms came around her. She attempted to raise her wand, but the element of surprise was against her, and it was taken away before she even realized what had happened.

A kiss on her neck was the first indication that she was not perhaps in the danger she originally thought. "That was better, little girl, but you're still predictable," Kingsley whispered against the skin of her jaw.

"Only to you," she hissed, only partly in anger as his teeth found her earlobe.

"I figured I had given myself away with my choice of wine, but your curiosity didn't even take you very far into the room. You might be getting the hang of this after all." He didn't bother turning her around as he went to work on the fastenings of her robe. "Can I have my fiancée back?"

She melted back into him at the words, all her anger at his professional jabs disappearing for the moment. Deep down, she knew Kingsley would never choose praise over criticism when it came to how she did her job – and he did say she had done better. All she could do was keep trying to live up to his expectations for the Aurors. This problem wasn't going to get better once they were married, potentially even getting worse as the two of them attempted to co-exist.

"K, what are you doing here?" she asked, suddenly gasping at the end of the question as his hands found the midriff her shirt had left bare.

He chuckled into the indigo-tipped blonde hair that now feathered down her neck, blowing on it gently before he replied, "I heard where Amelia was sending you and didn't want you to be alone."

"Because you didn't think I could handle it?" she asked bitterly, wondering how many people had access to her records. Surely Kingsley shouldn't, but she had no idea who was allowed to view the notes from her visits with Dr. Elsinor.

"Because I know this house holds memories I don't like to think of you dealing with alone. Besides, the negotiations have derailed. I would have been home in a couple of days anyway. Stewart can handle the cleanup by himself. I've been looking forward to seeing the dress you've been telling me so much about."

"Not for three more weeks," she answered, quickly shedding the shirt he had pushed up for better access. "Mumma says it needs to stay a surprise no matter how much you sweet talk me."

He chuckled as he worked on the clasp of her bra. "That woman knows me so well. Figures she would know what I was going to do."

"Not just her," Tonks giggled. "Tessa warned me about breaking tradition if I showed you, and Moody made a big show at the Order meeting last week, asking me if I needed a charm to keep it invisible from you. Seems everyone knew that you'd ask and I'd cave in."

"I hope so," he murmured, reducing her to silence as he rolled one of her nipples between his fingers. The wall shivered beneath the weight of the large man as the petite woman pressed herself back against his solid body.

"What about dinner?" she asked after his hand moved down to the waistband of her trousers.

"What about it?"

"I'm hungry."

"So am I."

"You know I don't like to eat when I'm naked," she whined, sliding her hands over his as they began working the heavy cotton over her hips.

"I'll let you get dressed again when we're done." His voice was a low rumble against her shoulder where he was nipping at her skin.

"So we're going to do this in the hall?"

"It's a good starting point. I don't want to get too far away from the sauce while it's still cooking. Later we can move upstairs."

She shivered. The movement had nothing to do with where Kingsley was touching her or how cold the air was that suddenly caressed the sensitive skin of her abdomen. "Not up there," she said, shaking her head ever so slightly.

"It might help to-"

"Not up there!" She was louder this time as she stiffened. "I'm only taking brave so far. Maybe it can be one of our next lessons when you try to teach me to become a decent Auror. It must gall you that you've done your job so poorly. I'm surprised I can do magic at all."

He let her go as she struggled out of his arms, grabbing up her shirt off the table across the hall after pulling up her trousers. Since there were only two rooms she allowed herself to go in, and his presence was all over the kitchen, she walked back to the front room.

A portrait of Grandfather Black had hung over the mantle, but Sirius had gotten rid of it when he had come back to the house for the last time. If there was ever someone who had hated the old man more than she had, it was Sirius. Draco, for the most part, had been sheltered from the old man's tirades and hurtful actions since he had been so young when the man had met a bitter end at the hands of a much younger Alastor Moody.

Because he was on this new kick of talking about things, she wasn't surprised when Kingsley walked in and chose a chair across from the couch she had chose to huddle on. "I'm surprised to still see you like that." He lifted his chin to indicate her appearance.

She flipped a piece of the blue streaked hair between her fingers. "Aren't you the one who told me I needed to quit hiding? Just because I'm angry at you for not understanding how I feel doesn't mean I don't love you anymore. There are things you don't know about me just like there are things about you I'll never know. Can you tell me honestly that you'll ever explain that three year absence from the department that no one seems to know about?"

He regarded her thoughtfully, his eyes hooded and secretive. The look had always intimidated her into fits of babbling in the past. Now, all she did was tug her shirt down to make sure everything was covered as adequately as possible for this conversation. She felt vulnerable in this house, even in his solid presence.

"You've never asked," he finally said, leaning his head on his hand. As she watched him, she realized he looked tired. It wasn't uncommon for him to go without sleep during a negotiation, but she hadn't gotten a good look at him yet. There was something else different about him, other than the blood-shot eyes. He looked vulnerable, as well. Maybe her words had hurt him just like his had hurt her.

"And you've never asked about this house even though you seem to have known quite a bit about how I feel. I don't recall ever mentioning it before."

"Love is a two way street." The words, as they came out of the strong, often silent, man, sounded false. He'd been using a lot of pithy sayings like that lately. Almost as if he was parroting what someone else had told him.

"That sounds like something Elsinor would say in the yearly psych exam," she jested sarcastically, still not eager to let go of the protective barrier of harsh words. When he flushed and ducked his head, her eyes grew wide. "Your yearly assessment isn't for another three months. It's always two weeks before mine. What…Is this why you keep saying we need to talk things out all of a sudden? Have you been getting counseling?"

She was astonished when he kept his head lowered. It wasn't like Kingsley to let her manipulate him with her words. He always had something to say to combat what she said. It was something, she found, she had grown to depend on. When it wasn't there, it was confusing to her.

"I was in Sierra Leone, helping out a friend of mine." He rubbed at a scar on his hand, one that she didn't know the story behind. It was one that he rubbed when he was under stress. As he looked up at her, she nodded to show she was listening but stayed silent, wondering where this was going.

"His tribe was in need of help in a war with a neighboring tribe. When he asked for help, I couldn't say no. There was no way he could be the leader of the tribe and also hope to concentrate on working enough magic to help his people."

"Was it your tribe?"

He shook his head. "No. My tribe was destroyed long ago, shortly after my mother and I left. He was a close friend, though, one that I had made while living on the streets of London. Helping him wasn't a hard decision to make, considering I was having some difficulties with an assignment and needed to spend some time out of the country. After I got down there, I thought it might be something I wanted to do for longer than a year. Magic is treated differently in that part of the world. It's revered. There's no hiding it from the Muggles. They realize how important it is."

His fingers weren't rubbing at the scar anymore but his hand was covering it, almost protecting it. Tonks' desire to know exactly where it came from was intensified by these sudden memories from him. There was a story behind that wound, just as there were from any of the rest of the wounds covering his body. Kingsley was a fighter, never pulling from a fight, and his body was testament to his ability to withstand quite a lot of trauma.

"I realized how much I missed London, though. Besides, I heard about this pretty new recruit who needed to be whipped into shape. They told me she was the best rookie they'd seen in a long time – and I agreed. Still do."

She hesitated to break the silence as he lifted his head to finally look at her, unsure if he was going to continue with his story. It made her feel odd that he was sharing details with her that she was sure no one else knew. Their relationship, forged by pain and struggle, was closer on some levels than most couples could ever hope for; however, when it came to the parts of their hearts they guarded the closest, they were almost complete strangers.

Taking a deep breath, she started to speak softly. "Grandfather Black locked me in a closet upstairs when I was seven," she started slowly, pulling her knees up to her chest as the pieces of memory started to fit back together. "There was no one around that could do anything. I had entered the house willingly, thinking my mother couldn't possibly be right in thinking he was an evil man. He was grandfather."

A tear slid down her jaw and landed on her knee. It was warmer than her pale skin, a touch of sanity in a world that suddenly gone black and white with remembrance. "Both my mother and father were powerless to do anything because of my foolishness. If he had forced me to enter, they would have been able to come in, but.…" Her voice trailed off and she had to struggle not only with the memory of the pain, but of the guilt at causing such pain for her parents. They had warned her but she had been hardheaded to listen, even then. "A week later, Sirius came home from school and was able to get me out. I don't remember those last days. If you look closely, you can still see the nail scratches on the wood. I checked once, just to make sure that I hadn't imagined it."

Once again, she was taken by surprise as he lifted her up into her arms. "I would never make you do anything you didn't want to do. I may push you but would never hurt you. Not purposely," he murmured into her hair.

She smoothed her fingers over the scar on his neck, remembering the way her heart had stopped when she had seen the blood gushing from the near-fatal wound. No matter what he may say or do, he had gotten that wound protecting her.

"I can't show you the dress, but want to see how my hair is going to look when I marry you?"

His smile, as ever, was all the answer she needed.


End file.
